


Inside Red

by Audrea_Lannistark



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrea_Lannistark/pseuds/Audrea_Lannistark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look inside the Red Room, from the view of 14-year-old Alexandria Feldova. Minor trigger for violence, poison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside Red

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the haphazard Japanese. I'm just going off what I learned in my assassin--er, Tae Kwon Do and Karate classes and Google Translate. Please correct my mistakes.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, miss.”

“Corner.” She turns towards the row of girls. “Out. Finish the work.”

She places a sword across my shoulders and collarbone. “Drop when I say so,” She says coldly. A few  
minutes later she shouts “Drop!”

I drop it late. Only a few seconds. What’s a few seconds?

“Niet! Miss Feldova, come with me.” She brings me to a training room in the back of the building. There are all sorts of weapons surrounding me. The ornately carved walls are black, but the floor is carpeted blood red. 

“Kata Heian Yondan.” 

I assume my first position and start the movements, calling number as I go on. I try to keep my body fluid, but I’m stiff with fear and curiosity of what this room is meant for. I finish with my Hai. 

“You made 18 mistakes.”

“I know. I counted.”

“Then why didn’t you correct them!?” She yells.

“I thought it would be best to try what felt strong for me, whether or not it deviates from the Kata.”

“You think you can go and make your own?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, miss! Tae Kwon Do starting set.”

I barely get two moves in when Ms Alnova stops me. 

“No, no! Step back.”

“But I was just out of step, I’ll start again—”

“You say it like it has no matter. Step back to Three. You will practice kicks and punches.”

“That’s for children; I’m almost fourteen now! I’m almost Level Six!”

“Miss Feldova, although you might have an idea of how to fight, you are oblivious to the way this programme is run. We do not want creativity. We do not want individuality. We want competence and death counts.”

I step back to Level Three, muttering. 

“Death…counts….death…dead…”

“Would you like a drink?”

It’s not a question I’m supposed to answer. Of course, I really haven’t anything to fear. The poison in the glass wouldn’t kill me; I’m much too valuable. Probably just blood cough and maybe a case of skin rash. Mutated influenza virus, if they want to be creative.

But they’re not. They like classic. Traditional. The beautifully-carved Russian crystal they have has been used to poison enemies and students alike for over a hundred years.

She’s quick, but I’m quicker. Forcing a bit of the drink up her nose is enough. Within seconds she doubles over and coughs up clots of black and red blood. Predictable. And the bout begins, this time for real.

I do my Katas, my way, and count number. It helps me keep track.  
Ich, roundhouse kick.  
Ni, upper cut.  
San, front roll and snap kick.  
Shi, I take a jab to the jaw.  
Go, kartwheel to the trophy table.  
Roku, a left hook.  
Shichi, I swing the gold figurine of a ballerina, titled “Best Female Dancer, Swan Lake”.  
Hatchi, she gets a pretty grape-coloured bruise of blunt force trauma on her forehead. It pairs well with the colour of blood.  
Ku, I wait, and…

ju, she’s dead.


End file.
